


The Letter

by joufancyhuh



Series: Starkhaven's Finest [9]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Abuses implied cause Circle life, Amell in the Gallows, Gen, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), NonInquisitor Trevelyan, NonWarden Amell, Post All That Remains, Pre-relationship Sebhawke, Recovering Alcoholic Hawke, Sexual Assault Mention in Chapter 3, Some Unkind Things Said About Cullen, Templar Trevelyan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2020-11-07 23:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: When a templar in Kirkwall hears of Leandra Hawke's death, she connects the dots to a lonely mage in the Gallows with the last name of Amell. The conversation it sparks leads to a letter, to be delivered to Hawke, all in hopes of a family the two women would risk everything for.





	1. Tabitha Amell

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially what you need to know:
> 
> Amell was in Ferelden, but ended up getting transferred to Starkhaven after working with Irving to find the blood mages in Kinloch Hold. But then, you know, Starkhaven burns down, so now she's in Kirkwall. Not the Warden.
> 
> Trevelyan's first assignment as a templar was in Starkhaven, but she ended up coming to Kirkwall after the Circle burns down. Trevelyan belongs to Inuy21. 
> 
> Hawke is generally a Mess. Her and Sebastian knew each other from back in Ferelden (but that's literally a whole other story). 
> 
> Is any of this really important? That's on you to decide, reader.

“You ever hear the name _ Hawke _?” 

Tabitha glanced up from her book on magical theory, searching for the source of the question. No other mages lingered in the library, only a red-haired templar standing guard by one of the book stacks. But templars didn’t speak with the mages, the Knight-Commander forbid conversation. 

Still, the templar offered a small, uneasy smile before inching closer to the nook where Tabitha curled herself in the windowsill seat. Her sharp grey eyes darted around in caution before settling on Tabitha, who straightened her back and slide her feet down to the floor, fingers digging into the edge of her seat. The book ended up face down beside her, close to where her pet snake sunbathed out of sight. When she shook her head, her curls bounced with the motion. “I can’t say I have, no.” 

The templar -- Ser Evelyn, Tabitha finally remembered her name -- glanced back to the empty door frame again as boots clanked down the hall. When no one entered the library - most mages spent their time somewhere more populated - the templar’s attention settled back on Tabitha, though the stiffness in her posture and the alert caution she exercised remained. “What about the Kirkwall Killer?” 

_ What a weird conversation, _ Tabitha thought, her nerves and magic intertwining in an erratic thrum under her palms. Chatty templars in private spaces were a thing to fear, and while this templar stayed off her radar, that didn’t make her a decent person. Things changed in Kirkwall; the friends she came with, the rules, the templars as well. Kirkwall brought out the worst in people. 

But that line of thought reminded her of Ser Evelyn, and she made an attempt to pluck the humanity out of the woman before the situation turned dark. “You’re from Starkhaven, aren’t you? One of the templars who came with us?”

Ser Evelyn huffed as if offended that Tabitha didn’t remember her, but Tabitha tried her best to only remember those who caused trouble, the ones she cast locking spells against on her bedroom door to keep out at night. Like the Knight-Captain, who wore the face of someone she once loved but who paled in her presence like she existed as nothing more than a ghost to his memories. Golden eyes that narrowed and watched her every move in The Gallows, hatred brewing like an inferno inside him. One day, she knew, it would burst through him and come for her. 

But Ser Evelyn didn’t hold onto her anger long, though her nostrils still flared with her reply. “Listen, I only wanted to ask if the woman who died was a relative. If she is, I’m sorry for your loss. If not, forget I said anything.” 

Relief trickled through Tabitha, but she held on to her doubts. Was this a tactic for her to drop her guard? “Why would she be a relative?” 

“Because Leandra Hawke’s maiden name is Amell.” 

The light from outside faded around the room as her heart sped up in her chest, beating against the cage of her body. “Are you implying … I have a family? Here, in Kirkwall?” Nothing good came from this city, _ nothing _. And everyone in the Circle knew that Tabitha Amell had no family, that the Chantry took her in at a young age and raised her. Her family consisted of enchanters and sisters, who taught her how to read and write, the curse of her magic, and that she was the only Amell left. 

And yet she yearned for more when listening to the new apprentices speak of their own families, of siblings both older and younger, of mothers who sang and cooked and loved unconditionally, and of fathers who laughed and read bedtime stories and gave the warmest hugs. 

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she covered her face as they began to cascade down her cheeks, her shoulders tense as sobs broke past her lips. _ A family _. What the demon in her Harrowing offered to her, promised her siblings and parents, and how much it hurt to turn that dream down because the Chantry drilled it into her head that she was alone. 

“Please, stop crying. What if someone hears you?” Ser Evelyn put out a hand in her direction, looking frantic but maintaining a low tone. “I don’t know if she’s related to you. I’m sorry I brought it up.” 

“No, no,” Tabitha said, revealing her face to smear her tears with the back of her hands. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.” But what did it mean, exactly? The Knight-Commander enforced no contact with the outside world for her kind, and if anyone figured out her connection to the deceased woman, the only transfer option available would be the Brand. But she needed to know everything. She owed it to the little girl who struggled to remember a mother. “Are there more of them? More Amells?” 

Uneasiness flickered like a shadow in the templar’s eyes, passing slow enough that Tabitha wondered if lies followed. “At least one, bit of a rabble-rouser from the gossip.” Accompanied by a sigh, Ser Evelyn scrubbed a greave down half her face. “I know what you’re thinking, and I can’t help. You know the rules.” 

“Just a letter,” Tabitha pleaded, the watering in her vision returning. “One letter, please.” When the templar remained statuesque, she reached out to grab one of Ser Evelyn’s hands, holding it between both of hers. The metal of her armor poked into her skin, cold and unfeeling like the expression on her companion’s face. This act, to any other templar, would send her to solitary, and she pressed her luck with this one, but sweet Maker, she demanded to get her way on this one thing. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” 

Ser Evelyn’s cheeks burned a hot red, but her hand stayed where Tabitha held it. “And if you are family? What then?” She gave a sad shake of her head, then drew back to cross her arms over her chest. “When you escape, I’ll be the one taking the blame. Or am I to run things between the two of you until we all get caught? Templars have no problems punishing their own.” 

“Only one letter,” she repeated. “Please, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything, but please, I need to know. I never had a family before.” Her gaze bore into Ser Evelyn’s, like an attempt to mentally convey the importance of the task in case her words failed. “I won’t leave, I promise.”

The hardness of Ser Evelyn’s face softened, her arms uncrossing to fall back at her sides. They stared after one another for a breath until the templar gave an exaggerated sigh of defeat. “One letter, and only one. Mage or not, you deserve a family.” 

Tabitha began to weep again as a large, toothy grin broke out across her face. Jumping up, she rushed at Ser Evelyn, bringing her into a firm hug. “Thank you, oh thank you. I promise I’ll be careful.” 

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Ser Evelyn murmured before shrugging off the hug and resuming her position by the door.


	2. Evelyn Trevelyan

_ What am I doing, _Evelyn asked herself as she attempted to keep her footfalls silent on her way up Hightown’s stairs. Years of learning her place in the Circle, of biting her tongue to any injustice no matter how she raged inside, of following orders and blending in the background; all of it risked for some mage she barely knew. Why oh why did she open her big mouth about the Hawke woman? Why leave her comfort zone to show sympathy to a mage? 

Tightening the hood around her face as she entered the empty marketplace, careful not to let any of her Trevelyan red hair peek through, another part of her chimed in. _ It’s the least you can do after forsaking your beliefs like you did. What’s the harm in a single letter? The girl deserves to know if she has a family, even if they’re shitty like ours. _

Fear replied, _ They cast out templars for less _. A shiver accompanied the thought, a brief reminder of when she first arrived to Kirkwall. Nightmares still came about the punishments received back when she gave a damn about the Order. And everyone knew of Samson, begging to feed his lyrium addiction in Lowtown. 

She shoved her hands in her pockets, the letter brushing against her bare skin. _ Is she worth it? _

_ If I made the connection so easily, who else did? The Knight-Captain has his obsession with the mage. What if he’s watching the Hawke estate? _

A few people milled about when she arrived in the courtyard housing the estate. One woman she recognized as a merchant, but the two men staggering toward the brothel made her pause and wait for them to disappear around the corner. 

On the doorstep, she prayed as she rapped her knuckles against the wood. _ Andraste preserve me, let someone answer. I won’t have the courage to go through with this twice. _A brief consideration came and passed about slipping the letter under the door, but what did she know of this Hawke person? What if handing over the letter led to her arrest and Amell’s branding? 

With the second knock, the door creaked open, a familiar set of blue eyes peeked out. “Can I help you,” the man asked with the rich brogue of a Starker accent. Her heart raced as his Chantry robes flashed under the moonlight. _ What was he doing here so late? What if I’m right, and I can’t trust Hawke? _

Only one Starker served at the Chantry; Brother Sebastian, the rightful heir to the Starkhaven throne. Rumors burned between those walls like the candles in the sanctuary, impossible to escape even when she showed disinterest. The sisters loved their gossip. The only thing keeping her in place and not hightailing it back to the barracks was the fact that Brother Sebastian had no official title in the Chantry, only called Brother out of respect. 

“May I come in?” The lilt of her voice sang fake sweetness. “I’m here to talk to Serah Hawke about a personal matter.”

“She isn’t accepting visitors right now.” He tried to shut the door, but she jammed her boot in its path to block the swing. 

“I’m afraid this can’t wait.”

Sebastian’s eyes turned the icy cold of winter. “You’re intruding.” 

“I swear I have good reason. If you only let me in, please-” _ O Creator, see me kneel; for I walk only where You would bid me. _

“That’s not an option.” This time, he gave a hard shove to the door, but she pushed back, enough to barge in. No sooner did she take a step into the dim-lit foyer did Sebastian hold a blade against her throat. “Time for you to leave, lass, should you want to keep your life.” _Where did that blade even come from?_ _Hawke certainly keeps interesting company. _

“I’m not here to cause trouble, but I can’t leave, not yet.” Her hands raised slowly in the air, and she began to pray anew. _ O Maker, hear my cry: guide me through the blackest nights. _ “It’s about Serah Hawke’s family.” 

The stern narrow of his gaze softened, and carefully, he retracted the dagger back into his sleeve. The door closed with a swift kick to the bottom. “I’m afraid you’ve come at a bad time.” Motioning for her to walk in front of him, they entered the entrance hall. For a brother, he certainly made himself at home, taking one of the arm chairs in front of the crackling hearth. “Hawke is … unwell.” 

“I’m sorry for her loss.” Evelyn took the seat beside him as her attention lingered on every dark corner of the room, waiting for her brethren to jump out and declare her caught. 

Every person in Kirkwall heard of the Kirkwall Killer, and the templars got an earful about Quentin, especially those who originated in Starkhaven. Stories circulated of the patchwork women, the body parts found in the basement of the Foundry. The templars assigned to the case returned green to the gills, even the hardened vets. To find anyone like that, let alone their mother … Evelyn near despised her own but not even she deserved that fate. 

Sebastian nodded, his gaze drawn into the flames before them. “She is dealing with it in her own way.” Judging by the state of the place, not well, cobwebs and dust building in the corners of the room. Did she not have servants, someone to care for the estate? When the brother caught her eye, he gave a knowing, forced smile. “What brings a templar in disguise so late in the evening? You mentioned Hawke’s family?”

So he recognized her from attending Chantry services after all. Biting her tongue to not inquire after his own presence there, she instead asked, “How well do you know Serah Hawke?”

His gaze returned to the flames that crackled between them in the silence of his response. His brow furrowing, hands clasped tight in front of him, she wondered if she erred in her query. But then a long sigh with enough weight to carry a burden broke his pinched lips apart, and he released his hands to scrub through his fire-tinged hair. “I’ve known her for so long now, yet she still manages to surprise me. Some days, It feels as though we've just met.” Another sigh. “She is a good person but the lass can be so damn _difficult_.” 

Evelyn shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the personal response. _ Sheesh, I only wanted to know if I can trust her. _ Still, the temptation to pry into whatever existed between Hawke and the brother lingered. But her mission came first, to deliver this blasted letter. And since he claimed to know her so well, a new idea popped into her head on how to play this. 

Discretion was never one of her strong attributes when applied to conversation. 

“Brother,” she began. “If I were to confess something to you right this instant, would you hold it in confidence?” 

The alertness returned to his gaze, and he righted his position in the chair. “This is rather informal, but aye, I would.” 

“Good,” she said with a grin, then carefully, one hand out in defense to show she revealed no weapon, slid the letter out of her pocket. “There is a woman in the Circle, her name is Tabitha Amell.” 

His eyes widened at the name in recognition. “And she is a mage?” 

Evelyn nodded and slipped the letter to him. “She asked me to give this to Serah. She wants to know if they’re related.”

Sebastian took the letter from her, holding it very gingerly as he flipped it over in his hands, as if recognizing the full implications. “You’ve risked a lot bringing this here.” 

“And more by giving it to you, Brother.” She drew in a deep breath. “You said you know Hawke well. I leave it to you to decide whether or not she receives the letter. I know the Chantry’s stance on mages as well as the Knight-Commander’s.” 

_ That doesn’t make it right. _The notion flew through her head so fast that she almost thought she imagined it. It stung of the early days in the Gallows, of the defiance Meredith sought to beat out of the transferred templars. The taste of copper filled her mouth as if on memory.

_ The Circle feels wrong. It’s felt wrong since we arrived and it’s only getting worse. _

_ So what are you going to do about it? Or will you return to your apathy? _

_ Not this time. _

Sebastian promised her no repercussions as he escorted her out, and when he suggested joining him for future confessions, the spark of something ignited in her chest. What it meant, she didn’t know, only that she would chase after it.


	3. Sebastian Vael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other two chapters came so easily, but this one, I fought with. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out overall, but here these two go again, trying to have Feels for each other way too early in the story. Please stop, I'm begging you. 
> 
> Also, assault mention in this chapter.

The letter disappeared for a month under stacks of forgotten correspondence on the writing desk, consisting mostly of unpaid bills, condolences, and invitations to fancy parties Hawke never intended to attend. Dust settled on the individual pieces of mail like fresh snow, waiting for someone to remember its existence, not merely another piece of the background to the slowly-warming Amell estate. 

When someone did attempt to pick up the large pile from the desk, the letter separated itself from the rest by slipping out to float down, coming to rest against the hardwood floors. “Fuck,” Kalea spat when she saw it, her mood already soured by the task at hand. Careful not to spill more from her awkward grip on the heap, the top of it tucked under her chin and tickling her nose so that any moment she might sneeze, she kicked the rogue letter with the tip of her foot. “Grab that for me, would you?” 

Sebastian said nothing as he bent to pick it up, his mind recalling the odd night when it arrived, delivered by a templar who now regularly joined him for confession. When his gaze returned to Hawke, who dumped her armful onto the couch and took a seat on the ground in front of it, he noted the changes in her health since then. 

Sobriety suited her well, eyes bright if not a little tired. The green undertone to her skin faded, replaced with a glowing tan from their regular runs through the city to help quell her urges. Spots of pale skin peeked out from around the collar of her shirt, enough to start a low heat in his cheeks. He shouldn’t be looking, not like _ that _. 

When she caught his stare, her lips drew back in a small grin as she patted the empty space beside her. “You have to help since this was your idea.” She plucked a piece of mail from the top and cut into the seal with a small dagger, one he recognized used to belong to him. Her face scrunched with distaste as she read over it. “Ugh, a bill. I thought you said Varric covered everything?”

Sebastian moved to sit cross-legged next to her on the floor, his back against the couch, his knee resting against hers. “Aye, he did. If he missed any, you’ll need to discuss it with him.” He stole the bill from between her fingers, trading it for the letter in his. “This one is important.” 

“It’s not addressed.” Her lips pursed as she scanned the letter for clues of its origin, in a way that made her infuriatingly cute, especially with a couple of strands loose from her ponytail and falling into her face. 

It drew his thoughts back to their last kiss, her straddling his lap and trying desperately to undress him while he clung hard to the last bit of his vows and his sanity by removing himself immediately from the vicinity. Her lips, soft, tasting of the very life he gave up for the Chantry, the liquor on her breath as intoxicating as the sway of her hips against him -- she didn’t remember it now, and it all felt so pointless to drag it out into the open, especially with his conflicted feelings about the matter. 

Heat radiated in his cheeks, all the way down to his chest where it wrapped around his lungs; he shifted away from her, their knees no longer bumping together, his eyes glued to the edge of the rug. Maker, he was going to have to pray on this again, maybe even attend confession himself. 

Her dagger slid between the pages, breaking the seal. Her eyes scoured the page, and a loud gasp broke the silence as she reached halfway through the letter. With it still in hand, she jumped up and hurried toward one of the bookcases. “I know it’s here somewhere,” she muttered to herself, running a finger down each spine as she read through their titles. 

Sebastian rose to his feet, eager to be of assistance and desperate to take his mind off its current track. He knew what the letter entailed -- Evelyn confessed the whole affair to him. Still, Kalea’s actions confused him. “What are you searching for?” 

“We have a - Here it is!” She plucked a heavy book off the shelf, the Amell family crest branded in red on the black leather bindings. The book fell open on her now clear writing desk when she slammed it down. Finger marking her place as she raced through each page, she said, “It’s a … ledger? Each Amell gets added to it, and - Here she is!” She poked at a scribbled name, and he scooted closer to glance over her shoulder. Her forefinger hovered underneath the name _ Tabitha Rayne Amell_. “It says here that she’s a … cousin? If I’m reading this right, a second-cousin.” She sun, nearly throwing herself into Sebastian in her excitement. “Do you know what this means?”

He knew, just as he knew Hawke’s inevitable response and the argument to follow. The only thing left was to brace himself for it. 

“She’s family! I still have family here in Kirkwall! And -- oh no, oh sweet Maker, the poor woman’s trapped in the Circle! We have to break her out!” 

“Hold on.” Sebastian grabbed her shoulders before Hawke darted away to plan the daring escape. “That’s not a good idea.” 

“Bash,” she whined, wiggling under his hold in an attempt to break it. “You know what happens in there. I can’t leave her!”

“We have to leave her,” he shot back, weathering the fiery glare of her wrath, her eyes boring into him and marking him as the enemy. “It’s not worth risking your safety, no matter who she is.” 

“It’s not worth risking her safety, either. What if they give her the Brand? Or a templar decides to get a little too friendly?” She gave a hard shove to his chest, but he remained planted in her path. “You’ve heard the stories.”

“There’s a templar looking out for her.” Sebastian continued on, even after Kalea rolled her eyes with an exaggerated huff. “The best thing we can do right now is sit on this. You can write back, exchange letters, and we can make a careful, long-term plan, but if she goes missing right now, they’ll come for you and anyone who helped her.” His grip on her shoulders loosened until his hands fell back to his sides. “It’s admirable that you’d throw your life away over your family, even someone you recently discovered, but I don’t want anything to happen to you, Lea.”

Her nose wrinkled, but her anger seeped out of her stance as she leaned back into the desk. “I hate it when you’re reasonable. You’re always insufferable but then you get that stupid little know-it-all smirk -- That right there! -- and it adds to your already massive ego and I hate it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze returning to the open ledger. “It says she has siblings, mages, all in different Circles. She should at least know. She thinks she’s alone in there, and that’s a terrible thing to feel.” The shiver she attempted to hide didn’t escape his notice, and on reflex, he dragged her forward into a hug. 

She froze at first, but then wrapped her arms around him, face burying into his chest. Words came cheap in situations like theirs, but at least Carver lived, even if he forgot to write. “You’re not alone,” he said anyway because she deserved to hear it, even if she didn’t believe it. He wanted to speak about her friends, the loyalty she inspired in them, or about her absent brother. Or how the Maker was there, even when she didn’t pray, even if she didn’t believe. But he chose not to. “I'll always be here for you, Pidge.” 

Her arms tightened around him in response, the fabric on his chest damp.


	4. Kalea Hawke

The Gallows courtyard never failed in setting Kalea on edge. Even for jobs, coming there stirred up a bad combination of both a fear of discovery and the guilt over her freedom. Each templar stare pierced through her as though spotting her thin disguise and awaiting the confession that led to her capture. 

At her side, Sebastian squeezed her hand before falling away to distract any unwanted attention her presence garnered. Meanwhile, she stood in front of the mage-run market stall in one of the shadowy alcoves, pretending to peruse for supplies. Her frequent jaunts into the wilderness and running errands for the shopkeep normalized her appearance there so that she could linger freely with only minimal suspicion, at least in theory. 

Armor clinked behind her, a templar’s approach, and on reflex she stiffened, her hands white-knuckling the edge of the table as she leaned over it. But a familiar mop of red and a kind smile eased out some of the tension in her stance as Thrask filled the empty space left by Sebastian. The merchant nodded to them both before slipping away, allowing them a semblance of privacy to talk freely. 

“Hawke,” Ser Thrask said with a greeting nod. “Got your note. How can I be of assistance?”

Thrask was a good man, as good as someone wearing that armor could be. It also helped that Kalea lorded private information over him that would end very badly if it somehow fell into Meredith’s hands. She trusted no one else’s help in this matter, even though Sebastian insisted on using the woman who brought the letter, but Kalea didn’t know her and didn’t share in her friend’s blind trust. 

“Tabitha Amell. Any chance I can speak to her in person?” 

Thrask clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he considered it. She knew the risk factors. Amell wasn’t a common name, and a templar only needed to do a small amount of digging before connecting the two. 

“Not without raising suspicion. You’re gaining quite the reputation these days. The Knight-Captain’s been following your adventures closely.” 

Damn. Kalea resisted a quick glance to where Cullen stood sentry by the Circle’s entrance, stone gaze no doubt aimed in her direction. She helped him once, before she knew who he was. Maybe that bought her leniency now, but if she had the chance to do it again, she wouldn’t make that mistake twice. 

Thrask continued on, a little quieter. “There’s also the rumors that he and Amell were… involved back in Ferelden. I don’t know if they’re true or not, but he does treat her different, and not in a good way.”

Her body turned cold at the insinuation. “Is she safe?”

“She’s a smart girl. Knows how to avoid most unwanted attention, unlike some of the others. I’d say she’s safe for now.” Thrask cut a sharp look in her direction. “So it’s true? She’s family?”

“Who told you that?” Her tone sharpened, her eyes lit with a quiet rage and unsubtle fear. The way Thrask phrased the question, it sounded as though others discussed the possibility, or that rumors abounded, which meant her newest relative was in a considerable amount of danger, more than she initially thought. Screw what Sebastian said about playing this safe, Kalea needed to make a move and now. 

“Her name told me.” As if spotting the urgency rising in Kalea, he placed a hand over hers on the table. “I won’t let anything happen to her, I promise.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” she said, jerking her hand back. Now was a good a time as any to ask, figure out the magnitude of the threat her cousin toyed with. “Unrelated, what do you know of an Evelyn Trevelyan?” 

A noticeable shadow crossed over Thrask’s face. His voice, robbed of its usual warmth, posed the question, “Why?” 

That reaction didn’t bode well. Kalea quickly slipped into the fib she prepared for if questioned about her curiosity. “She’s spending a lot of time with Sebastian. I’m worried about her influence over him, and if I should be concerned.” 

Thrask half-turned to glance at Sebastian, chatting away with a small group of templars in his Chantry robes. “If she’s seeking redemption with the Maker, I hope she finds it. But if you’re asking if you can trust her, I don’t have an answer for you. She made waves when she first arrived from Starkhaven, but… the Knight-Commander had a way of correcting that. Trevelyan hasn’t been the same since.” 

Not the worst answer. Trevelyan was an unknown entity, and sometimes that was a good thing. That didn’t mean Kalea needed to share in Sebastian’s confidence. “Do me a solid and watch over Tabitha for me. I’ll even pay you for this favor.” 

“I don’t need your coin, Hawke.” Thrask let out a heavy sigh and scrubbed a greaved hand down his face. “But I ask one thing in return. Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“I’ve never done anything stupid in my life,” she said with a chuckle, then reached into one of the pouches on her belt and pulled out the letter with her reply to her cousin. “Deliver this for me? She’ll probably want to write back. Let her know she can trust you.” Her teeth biting into the corner of her bottom lip, she debated asking him again to see Tabitha. To know that she existed, real flesh and blood, and not some chain a deranged templar used to bait her. “Does she look like me?”

“A little,” Thrask replied after studying Kalea’s face for a pregnant pause. “Brown hair, similar eyes. It’s not enough to notice when you’re not searching for the similarities.”

“You know I gotta ask one more time. You’re absolutely certain I can’t meet her?” 

Thrask turned his attention to the gates into the inner sanctum of the Gallows, at the same time slipping the letter into a well-hidden pocket. “Not without it raising some unwanted attention toward all three of us.” 

As much as Kalea wanted him to risk it, she took the disappointment with grace. Loud enough to draw the shopkeeper back, she pointed toward a collection of health potions. “Ser Thrask has convinced me. I’ll take the whole lot, then be on my way.”

Thrask slipped away, only gone a short second before Sebastian rejoined her. “What now?” His voice low and close to her ear, his breath both tickling and sending a low set of shivers through her, she stepped away to grab the sack full of potions, a muffled clink coming from inside. 

“Now, we wait. And we plan.”

He followed her swift exit from the Gallows with his lips twisted down into a frown. “Planning wasn’t what we agreed to.” 

“I’ll be careful,” she said, his sigh of defeat echoing behind her as they descended back into the bowels of Kirkwall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe not the ending you wanted. I was hoping they'd get to meet too, but reflecting on it, it was too obvious a connection, especially with Cullen there. They'll meet eventually, I promise. But for now, they have their letters and respective couriers. 
> 
> Hawke & Trevelyan & Sebastian will have more adventures together in the future, promise <3
> 
> I'm curious to hear your thoughts, questions, etc! Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism welcome.


End file.
